A NEW LOOK

When I was done singing, everyone cheered. But then, I noticed Champ and some of the record executives all huddled in a corner. They kept staring at me and whispering.

I started to get worried.

What was wrong? Was my singing too loud? Too soft? Too high? Too low? Or could it possibly be too….squeaky? Yes, I decided that must be it.

I hung my head. My tail drooped. Now Benjamin would never get to see me on TV.

Too squeaky, I sighed. I felt lower than a sewer rat. But then I started to feel annoyed. Of course my voice sounded squeaky. After all, I was a mouse, wasn’t I? Mice are supposed to sound squeaky.

I marched up to Champ and his new pals. But before I could say a word, Champ pulled me aside.

“Mr. G., we’ve decided you need someone to help you with your LOOK,” he said.

“And I have the perfect rodent.”

At first I was insulted. I mean, what was wrong with my LOOK? I take a shower every day. I brush my fur. And I always floss after a big meal. Then I thought about my wardrobe. It wasn’t exactly exciting.

“I guess it would be fun to have someone help me pick out some new clothes,” I agreed. “He’s an expert, right?” At this Champ gave me a sly look.

“She’s an expert,” he grinned.

“She?” I asked. “It’s a woman?”

Champ gave me another look.

“Yes, she’s a very, very young woman,” he said. “In fact, you know her well. She works for you.”

Suddenly, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

There is only one very, very young female mouse at The Rodent’s Gazette.

“Not Pinky Pick!” I screeched. Pinky is my extremely brainy but extremely annoying editorial assistant.

“She’s the one!” Champ squeaked, jumping on his bike and racing for the door.

I tried to run after him, but he was too fast.

Why, why, why did I let myself be dragged into such a mess?

Over the next several days, Pinky got me to try out different looks. Each one looked crazier than the next. But in the end, I decided to stick with my own look and just be myself.